


Faithless and Heartbroken

by Toomanyfandoms99



Series: Supernatural Season 15 Codas [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcoholism, Angst, BAMF Castiel (Supernatural), Character Study, Coda, Drama, Episode: s15e07 Last Call, History, M/M, Spy - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:15:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21758149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toomanyfandoms99/pseuds/Toomanyfandoms99
Summary: Chuck or no, Castiel knew what was right.  Not even Dean could stop him from his mission.Castiel was made into a monster.  He was going to use that.  He was going to do what he’s done for centuries, whenever he was sent on a sacred mission.He is going to meddle.
Relationships: Castiel & Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Supernatural Season 15 Codas [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1517966
Comments: 2
Kudos: 48





	Faithless and Heartbroken

**Author's Note:**

> Due to final exams, I could only write a short coda this week.
> 
> Songs included are “Do You Mean” by The Chainsmokers and “Heart Meet Break” by Liam Payne.

“That was very...Russian.”

It irks Castiel for hours after it is spoken, when the Winchesters and Eileen are back together again in the bunker.

All that room, and not enough for him…

It has been a long time since Castiel was reminded of who he was. Who he would always be.

A monster.

Angels, in fact, are more monster than any werewolf or djinn or mythological freak of nature can ever hope to be. Castiel watched all of his brothers and sisters become husks of the angels they once were millennia ago. He watched every single person he would have died and killed for become twisted by bureaucratic power.

He did not see the corruption until he was on his own. It was as violent as tearing a stuffed teddy bear away from a little girl.

The film is no longer a layer shading his eyes from the burning brightness of the sun. He understands that nothing is as good and pure as he thought.

Castiel became a monster like his dead siblings. A monster standing between Heaven and Earth. A monster that protects humans and fights angels.

The angels found him to be a failure. It is what Castiel used to think about himself just as well.

But they are the failures, not him. They lost sight of their mission, even though it was sent to them by an incredibly corrupt God.

Chuck or no, Castiel knew what was right. Not even Dean could stop him from his mission.

Castiel was made into a monster. He was going to use that. He was going to do what he’s done for centuries, whenever he was sent on a sacred mission.

He is going to meddle.

What Sergei doesn’t know...oh, Castiel could laugh...he was Russian once. He was Soviet. He was KGB. He was Bratva.

He watched innocents take bloody beatings. His stomach roiled every time he disposed of a body.

And that was only the short time he spent in Russia. He has been all across the world, spying for Heaven in places where even eyes in the sky could not penetrate what was happening in the world.

He was a Nazi in the forties. He spoke with monsters on a daily basis. He was an eloquent giver of speeches at parties so opulent that his eyes hurt at the sparkling jewels. He raised his wine glass to possibly one of the most heinous humans ever created as applause stabbed his eardrums.

He was on the wrong side of nearly every war, civil and global. He wore medallions and tight uniforms and shining hats. He was trampled in muddy trenches and taken prisoner. He was left bleeding in dizzying forests and had vessels die while he was still inside them.

He dug bullets out of his own stomach. He spat out his own punched-out front teeth. He crawled out of pits of mass graves.

All throughout history, he has been there, a spy for a cause that is useless.

Castiel’s old self bled into him more and more often lately. There is no one to check his imbalance.

He and Dean are on different sides of a chasm. It is not up to Castiel to fix.

But he also knows that growing a pair may be too much to ask of Dean. He deals with issues in the worst possible way. It is best to wait until it all comes crashing down on him.

The breaking point is approaching. Castiel could smell the alcohol on Dean’s breath, even though they stand a mile apart.

Dean will crash, and he will burn like never before.

Castiel is warring on what to do. Will he be there for Dean? Will he leave again?

If Dean keeps avoiding him, he will choose the latter. Let Sam take care of it.

Oh, Sam. Poor Sam. He didn’t choose this life.

Castiel will help Sam, perhaps, but not his stubborn older brother. Sam will always be his best friend, someone to trust through thick and thin.

But even Sam cannot right the seesaw that Dean and Castiel had perfected. If one of them was angry, the other could calm him down. If one was being stubborn, the other could make him see reason.

Nothing was working in this fight, though. 

Castiel doesn’t think anything will.

/

...Do you mean, do you mean what you say? What you said now, you can’t take away. You’re my gospel, but I’m losing faith, losing faith. Do you mean, do you mean what you say? Take a minute, do you need to stop and think? What we have, no, we can’t throw away, throw away…

/

————

Dean does not speak about where he’s been.

(He thinks he scares people into submission.)

They accept he went on a drive for an entire day and returned drunk. Sam is so used to it, in fact, that he hardly bats an eye.

Dean locks himself in his bedroom to sober up, Eileen’s disgusted face swimming behind his eyelids.

“That’s Dean,” Sam explains as Dean moseys away from the infirmary, shrugging simply to shrug.

Eileen sends Sam a strange look before scoffing, “men.”

He catches the edge of Sam’s apologetic smile as he glances over his shoulder at the door frame. Dean goes to his room and thinks.

He thinks Cas left. Maybe. But he can’t be sure.

With his head in the clouds, he forgets, for the slightest moments, what they are fighting about.

He scrubs his stubble. This is exactly why he went out searching for a case and distracted himself with drinking instead! 

Thinking too much has never been his strong suit.

The bar fight proved that. Dean is a grunt. Good with his fists.

He stumbles over his words so easily. The very man, the legendary John Winchester, who Lee praised, is to blame. John wasn’t one for healthy communication either.

Why can’t Dean just...say what he feels? What’s wrong with him? Why can’t he verbalize his thoughts out loud to Cas?

Stop. Thinking. About. Cas.

He is drunk. A drunk idiot wishing for things he can never have. Not anymore.

A part of Dean, though, hopes to hope.

One day, he will be strong enough to do it. Even though that day is not now, it will be soon. He swears it.

/

...Heart meet break, lips meet drink. Rock meet bottom, to the bottom I sink. How come love  
always ends, over and over again? Yeah, every time, don’t know how much I can take. Only got one heart, I don’t know how much it can break. Only got two eyes, how many rivers can I make? Tell myself it’s different, then I make the same mistakes…

/

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated!


End file.
